3 Months: I want my IGF!

It has been 3 months since my surgery and all my vitals have returned to normal. I haven't had one of those headaches in several weeks. {Relief} And I can move normally again. I can run, I can bounce, I can strain and not have my head ring like church bells. I even started going to the gym three weeks ago. This was the final step in my recovery. The stress and strain of exercising at the gym, testing my body and pushing the limits, was the last activity since the surgery that I expected to regain. And now that I have, there is only one thing that keeps going through my mind... I want my IGF! Not really... well, maybe a little.

Since the surgery I have lost 12 lbs, it was almost immediate and most of it occurred while I was at the hospital and those first few days that I was bedridden at home. I didn't expect it so quickly but I was aware of it and I planned to do something about it as soon as I was able. I ate normally and I didn't notice my body changing until a few weeks ago when my loose pants were no longer loose and the ones that fit, well, they now don't. I had successfully managed not to lose any more weight but the proportions had changed significantly and that took me by surprise.

As I had always done in the past, if things ever got off balance, I would turn to the gym and it wouldn't take long for my weight to stablize and go in the direction that I expected. Keep in mind that it's not the number that I'm after but rather the direction. If I had lost weight, I would go to the gym to restore the lost muscle. If I had gained weight, I would go to the gym to restore the muscle which burns the food which caused the fat that expands the belly (that Jack built). Either way, muscle is king. Use it or lose it (and gain all the other things you don't want).

Years ago I read a book titled Body for Life where the author stated that he likes the way he looks in the mirror and there was no reason we shouldn't feel the same. I remember thinking, wow, how is that possible. But it was possible and I reached that point. I had absolutely zero embarrassment going to the beach or I wouldn't think twice about wearing a tank top in public. I was healthy and sufficiently muscular to feel comfortable. I wasn't Arnuld but I wasn't Icabod either. Now I'm not too far from bubba and stick figures never so look good, especially with a belly. So I'm back at the gym and guess what, I've got nothing. And it's like I never had it. Where's the beef? It disappeared with the IGF. Those at the gym who remember say, c'mon, you can do better than that, quit sandbagging. And while I would like to agree, it's with extreme disappointment that I have to admit I am not sandbagging. I really don't have it and perhaps all I had previously was only an illusion...

I've read the experiences of other Acromegalics, particularly the symptoms, but no one has commented on their physical strength. The females are disenchanted with additional hair growth, irregular menstrual cycles or leaky breasts but they don't mention being able to lift a refrigerator to dust around it. And the dudes don't seem to mention having fun with their ladies by twisting lids on really super tight so they can't open it without your help. But it's a very real side-effect. One that is perhaps not tested but one that I unknowingly took advantage of and came to regard as quite normal for me. Now that it's gone I'm not quite sure I like it. In a way, it's like taking away a part of what makes a man a man. It's certainly a part that I identified with and enjoyed. Who else is going to open pickle jars, relocate furniture or launch kids into the pool? These are very real things in a man's life.

All that being said, I'm glad I'm healthy again. I trust that my bones have stopped growing. My face looks normal again and I don't look as old as I used to. My physique has redistributed it's proportions but I believe I'll be able to correct that with time. Perhaps it'll just take a little more time and effort now. But I am going to miss going for distance when I launch the kids. And what fun will it be if my woman can open her own pickle jars after I tighten them? I don't know how I'm going to live without my IGF, not really, well, maybe a little.